<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Grounding Touches by MTHammer</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121558">Grounding Touches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTHammer/pseuds/MTHammer'>MTHammer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Moving On, and Getting Over [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Splatoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Trauma, but only slight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:21:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTHammer/pseuds/MTHammer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of touches that carry the scent of comfort.<br/>A look between the mundane and the not-so-mundane.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Inkling(s) &amp; Octoling(s) (Splatoon), Octoling(s) (Splatoon)/Octoling(s) (Splatoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Moving On, and Getting Over [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Grounding Touches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"At the end of everything, hold on to anything." -Night in the Woods (2017).<br/>A collection of moments that take place in between "The Things Between Us" and "Sincerity."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>His shoulder comes flush next to hers; the gesture itself isn't even that overt or direct, yet it loosens something inside of her that has her letting out a tiny breath she didn't know she was holding. Cora continues to look at her phone as she and Tobes sit close to each other in the midst of the crowded subway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>As Cora was sitting with the crew, chatting away about nothing in particular, she feels a foot come up to rest on her left knee. A cursory glance to her left confirms that the owner of said foot is indeed Tobes, and she feels almost touched by the casual nature of the gesture. She places her hand on the ankle of his foot and turns her head back to the conversation, as if nothing happened.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Huh..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Yeah..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cora let out a resigned sigh. Her back was turned to Tobias, but she was still sitting against his side enough to feel the contact of his left shoulder against it as she leaned the rest of her weight against the wall of her room. She closed her eyes to take in the silence following her admission, with all the pent up thinking she's been keeping in these days, a moment of stillness comes as a welcome reprieve.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cora feels his hand against her cheek, but scrunches away as if it were foreign ink. Tobes is slightly taken aback, and tries her shoulder instead; she scrunches again. He takes the hint for what it is and leans back. It's only slight, but it's enough that his presence no longer crowds her—she wonders how that happened—and finds herself visibly relieved with her drooping shoulders and quite sigh.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And apology flashes through her mind, but she catches onto it and quickly revises it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thank you, I know it must be hard to deal with me at times."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cass once mentioned that it's important to acknowledge people's frustrations, another method of showing empathy that she's added to her arsenal overtime, but it's only making the guilt in her lungs spread in different directions; she can't do much but wait for Tobes to respond. She could feel her jaw clenching and her brows furrowing from the anxiety of her rejecting Tobes's affection, a rare occurrence for them. Sensing his gaze on her, she gets the feeling that it's more soft and contemplative than anything before he says, "I don't mind."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Something tells me you oughtta."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why's that?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"...It's...a lot to sort through...maybe even too much." Tobes falls silent for bit, taking a glance down at his work to poke at a spring in his work.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"...No one said anything about unraveling the baggage behind it."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Waddaya mean?" A brief moment of confusion.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He looks back at her, his voice maintaining that soft tenor Cora has become used to hearing. "I'm saying that it's fine if you have something to hide. All that matters is that you figure it at your own pace." He unfastens a screw on the inside of his autobomb. "I'm pretty good at waiting, remember?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was Cora's turn be taken aback, not expecting the sincerity of his words to nearly knock the wind out of her, nor forgetting that Tobes is practically the master of waiting thanks to his time as recon in the Military. It's strange, Cora finds herself wanting to believe in those words, in him. Even as every part of her mind is begging her to leave—to never let him touch her again—she feels oddly comfortable with her nervousness. She might have a theory on why, but she isn't ready to test it out quite yet, still too deep in denial to come to terms with what's happening to her feelings in this very moment. And there's still so much residual fear ingrained in her body of back then, at the thought of another unwanted touch. So, so much. Nevertheless, she slowly reaches for the back of her gray hoodie under her red flannel with both hands and pulls it far over her head and under her chin; she let's her body fall on the empty space to the left of her. The tightness of the fabric grounds her for a bit, and the pose she's making gives off the impression that Tobes's words have made her quite shy. She hears him give a soft chuckle, followed by the sounds of him resuming his tinkering. She lets go of her hoodie and lays there, staring past the space heater on her floor, her feet tucked under the kotatsu blanket. She looks back at him from the corner of her eye, his words from earlier whirring in her head now. It's been a while since she felt someone be genuinely interested in dealing with her, well, strangeness, and it conflicts with every part of her body that's rife with anxiety and wariness.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A part of her twists and softens over and over, and all those mini sea butterflies trickle back into her stomach and lungs. She can't be sure of all of this yet, whether she's able to fully open up with Tobes, not after the way she had opened up so much with Cadence that one year ago, and all too quickly. And yet, even with the small reprieve of not having to look at Tobes, she misses the feel of having something to hold onto and breathe into. To ground herself again. So, without a word, she scoots over and morphs into an octopus, wrapping all of her tentacles around his arm. He glances at her, and then returns to the equipment at hand.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thought you needed space."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I did."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She tucks her face into his arm, letting a pause settle before saying, "Just this once, for now."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"For now," he echoes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She hums and closes her eyes, letting the ambiance of Tobias's work bring her racing mind to a lull.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cora nods, but the anxiety that's settled inside of her started flaring up again with a vengeance—her surroundings feel unfamiliar all of a sudden, as if something that's not quite her is wriggling around a body that also isn't quite hers, wanting out now but how can that be when she herself already knows where she is they're at the Reef but the feeling gets to be all too much that it fills her head and throat with something and that she needs to go now and—</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Focus.</em> She tells herself. She grabs for one of the table edges in an attempt to pin herself back to reality, familiarity. Her eyes blink in succession as she began taking slow breaths in, and out. It keeps picking up in pace, and Cora has to practically fight to slow it down. She could felt her beak clenching, and the lump in her throat still isn't going away. She barely catches a soft <em>hey</em>, and tilts her head up to find the source. She's suddenly slammed with the need to immediately tuck her head back into herself, the movement somehow adding to her overstimulation. Still, looking away might not make her feel any better, so she bears it as she stares through Luke and Tobes, the slight edges of concern on their faces not quite registering in her mind, senses somehow far away yet too present all at once.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She felt someone move near—Tobes?—and hears <em>I need you to turn into an octopus for me, okay?—</em>it was such a soft request, how could she not deny it? So she did, her body already having leaned into the thing in front of her before even transforming. Her face was smothered into the fabric of their shirt, and she catches the faint scent of laundry detergent, and she feels her face relax and her beak unclench by a fraction.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Ah, yeah it's him.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The clench in her beak doesn't go away immediately, and it's not until some else's hand—Luke's probably—comes up to stroke her domed head that her breathing stabilizes and she's able to be a little more limp in Tobes's arms. Not wanting to chance another anxiety attack, Cora keeps her head buried there, taking her time to breath in, and out again. She hears mumbled conversations go on between the two guys, but doesn't bother with listening, calming herself down being her top priority at the moment. She senses Tobes move a bit, finding her surroundings grow a little darker before feeling a slow descent happen—Cora guesses that they moved to a shady area and are sitting now. It's now Tobes's hand that's holding her closer, the soft pressure of his touch loosening something in the back of her head.<br/>
After a significant amount of time, enough for the plaza traffic to die down, Cora starts feeling a little better with the reduced amount of light that was adding to her distress, along with the dimmed ambiance of being away from the main street area. She's finally able to look up and turn around now, reassessing her surroundings and looking at her friends. She's greeted with a smile from both pals, and she garbles out a <em>Thanks </em>before morphing back to her octoling form, squatting with Tobes and Luke as they both show signs of visual relief. Luke nods with a grin and Tobes gives a <em>Yeah </em>and a nod of his own, his expression a little less bright than Luke, but the care still evident in his voice as he rest his hand on her head for a second longer before bringing it back to his side. Cora couldn't help but flash a grin at her two buddies.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her realization comes to her in a moment of contemplation, and in a way that nearly overwhelms her on the spot. She's alone at her apartment this time, opting to spend the day tending to some "me-time" as she likes to call it. For the longest time, ever since she and Cadence left each other, she had been overcome with a great deal of stress—and an inordinate amount of fear for intimacy. However, in an ironic fashion, she has found herself yearning for it dearly all the same. Whenever there are moments like these to herself, when she thinks about the idea of seeking comfort from someone, her mind never fails to recall memories of her time with him that she used to cherish, and sometimes when she didn't want to remember, either. They used to bring her great happiness when they dated, being able to know that someone out there will always be there for her even when she loses herself in her emotions, and that she in turn could return that favor to her beloved. But now, those memories brought nothing but anxiety and mourning, tainted by ghosts of past trauma and deep-seated feelings of inadequacy—such comfort only sounded good in romance manga and anime, but it was never that simple in real life. Cora knows this full well by now, and yet...</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A part of her kept searching for that comfort again, even when she was able to become strong enough to stand on her own feet again, even when she found friends that could be there for her better than <em>he</em> ever would, and then some. It was in that moment that  she realized that there is someone like that. Someone that made her <em>want</em> to desire that again, someone that made her <em>want</em> to love again, but in the way that's so <em>so</em> different from all the times she's loved up until now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tobias.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was him that inspired her to love in a different way. To understand and accept that love doesn't always have to coddam mean being locked into a romantic commitment that demands giving so much—too much—of yourself to someone that just isn't worth it in the end, even when you thought they <em>were</em> worth it at the time. That love can just be looking a friend right in the eye and saying those three magic words, except when there would be no magic, only them—and the amalgamation of spoken and unspoken moments shared between them. Or that it can mean spilling your guts and lamenting your loss to them in the form of inconsolable tears, but knowing that nothing else will come of it other than the comfort given in the moment. And so when Cora is faced with that realization, she feels a warm static trickle from her shoulders, her neck, and out over her cheeks, all the while burying her face into the crook of her elbow—almost as if she were wrapping herself in a one-armed hug. She idly moved the hand hanging over her shoulder in a back-and-forth fashion like she were patting herself on the back, allowing her to breath in and out as she focused on the self-soothing gesture. She lifts her head up a bit, enough to bring eyes up as they stare at nothing in particular—a slight haze of contemplation overtaking them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's an odd feeling, finding a new reason to <em>want</em> to emotionally rely on someone again, even after feeling so put off by the last time she laid her heart out bare for someone, yearning for a feverent reciprocation, but then getting more than what she bargained for when she bore the weight of another's soul in turn—and honestly she still may be put off by that for longer still. And yet, despite all that, her she is, on the precipice of something important, the significance of it all almost terrifying, like if it were to be discovered in the open, the magic of the unspoken would dispel, and their bond with it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She...she doesn't know what to do with this information now... Or maybe she does but just doesn't wanna plan it out just yet. Acknowledging it all was enough for her mind and heart, and as she peels herself off of the kotatstu and heads towards her bedtime routine, Cora decides that she's reached a good stopping point in her reflection.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have given up on hoarding these short stories in my drafts until I've advanced the main story, so here is more good food to chew on in the meantime.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>